It's funny how some paintings arrive all at once while others wait patiently for years.
This one has been waiting for nearly three.
Despite missing a few deadlines lately, both for blog posts and the emails I had intended to send, work has been continuing quietly in the background. Summer always catches me by surprise. Every year I tell myself it will be calmer and every year it arrives carrying a fresh list of distractions, obligations and unexpected adventures.
This year has included the hunt for a new car, more travelling than anticipated, an unexpected detour leading to an overnight stay with my sister in Wexford, which was cool, and the usual saga of vans, garages, DOE tests, retests and invoices that seem to multiply of their own accord.
Yet throughout all of it, I have been steadily working away on a piece that means a great deal to me.
It's called The Duck's Lunch.
I am excited about this painting for many reasons, not least because it represents the direction I want my work to take from here.
But before I tell you about the painting itself, I need to tell you about the story behind it and what it represents to me.
The Little Girl with the Flowers
Many years ago, when we still had our little craft shop, I came to know a young girl and her wonderful grandmother.
She was around nine years old when we first met.
You could not have asked for a sweeter child. She was endlessly polite, full of smiles and always eager to tell me about school. She was particularly proud of her Irish spellings and loved sharing what she had been learning.
During the spring and summer months she would arrive at my door carrying little posies of flowers gathered from her family's flower patches. Sweet peas, daisies, dahlias, daffodils and whatever else happened to be blooming.
They would arrive in recycled jam jars, old sauce bottles and whatever containers could be rescued and repurposed.
I loved them.
In return, I would occasionally send over éclairs or tray bakes fresh from my kitchen.
It became one of those simple friendships that enriches life in ways you don't fully appreciate until much later.
As some of you may know, I have a tendency to arrange objects into little scenes around the house. Years spent merchandising displays have left me unable to simply place something on a shelf if I find it intriguing.
Instead, I create little vignettes.
Flowers, books, ornaments, old crockery, a curious cat, an interesting shadow. Somehow they always end up telling a story. Not everywhere, not all the time but when I'm moved to do it by something that catches my attention. I particularly love to juxtapose something ordinary such as an empty jam jar or sauce bottle with a heavenly floral arrangement placed near the fruit bowl for example. To see beauty bursting out amongst the ordinary is inspirational to me.
Whenever one of these scenes catches my eye, I photograph it.
Not because I know exactly what I will do with it, but because I suspect that someday it might become a painting. or a greeting card.
One day, after another flower delivery, it arrived about a month after my little friend departed, this time by my young friend's nana delivered them which was not that out of the ordinary either and as usual, I created a small arrangement and photographed it. It may as well have been from my young friend. She felt so near.
That photograph eventually became the inspiration for The Duck's Lunch.
A Painting That Waited
So you see from what I mentioned above, sadly, this lovely young friend passed away suddenly three years ago. in June. In her sleep, she slipped away.
Even now, writing those words feels strange.
Some losses never quite settle into place.
There isn't a day that I don't think of her in some small way.
A bunch of flowers.
Freshly baked buns
A bird on a fence, a kitten or a butterfly.
A curious creature crossing the garden, even a snail. Or particularly a snail.
She loved animals. She loved flowers. She loved small beautiful things. like bugs and butterflies.
The collection of photographs I gathered from those years has become unexpectedly precious.
Many of them remain untouched.
Others, like this one, have quietly waited for their turn.
Taking Things More Seriously
The Duck's Lunch also represents something else for me.
For the first time, I have approached a painting with the serious collector in mind from the outset.
Not because I intend to paint differently, but because I intend to value my work differently.
Over the years I have always purchased the best materials I could reasonably afford. Like many artists, I learned to make a great deal from a relatively small collection of supplies.
This time, however, I decided to remove the compromises.
The painting is being created on a large professional deep-edge canvas measuring one metre square.
I'm using professional-grade materials throughout, from the canvas itself to the paints and archival protective finishes.
When complete, it will also be accompanied by a certificate of authenticity.
Perhaps that sounds rather formal, but I think there comes a point when an artist has to acknowledge the years of learning, experimenting, failing, trying again and quietly improving.
This painting feels like that point for me.
Following Through
The painting is now well underway.
There is still work to do and I don't wish to rush it.
I've learned that paintings have their own pace.
The best work rarely appears when I try to force it.
So I'm allowing myself the luxury of enjoying the process rather than racing towards the finish line.
Administrative tasks can have the frantic energy.
Painting deserves something gentler.
I look forward to sharing more of The Duck's Lunch as it progresses.
For now, I'm happy simply knowing that after three years of waiting, this particular story has finally found its way onto the canvas.
And somehow, that feels exactly right.
Until next time,
Amanda
You might also enjoy some of my earlier studio updates and reflections on returning to painting. I'll leave links below if you'd like to catch up on previous posts.
April Blog post: The Joy of Dance A Portrait for my neices birthday.
